Better to Ask for Forgiveness Instead of Permission
by ChaosShadowWalkerWolf
Summary: Five years have passed since AL Mualim's death... Five years since Masyaf was under the control of Malik and Abbas... Five years since he left to challenge the Templars at his own whim. Dreams can always haunt those with a guilty conscience, however, and after one night alone, Altair realizes that some opportunities need to be taken, but Malik hasn't seen him for five years now...


**A/N: Hey there guys! Sorry about the absence... Kinda fell into a really depressed state and got caught up in work. But hey, I'm better now! And addicted to Assassin's Creed once again... . anyways, here you go!  
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**All characters, names, places are copyright of Ubisoft and the Earth. I won nothing.  
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**xxx  
**

_Tall shadow looming over the doorway, a dark-haired man, hood down stepped into his room, the flames casting a negative shadow of his face. "Malik..." Altair whispered, a small smile crossing his face. "Safety and peace, Brother. Do you need something?"_

_The dark-haired man, standing 5'11 before him, stepped closer. "I have news. Al Mualim is forcing Kadar with us in the morning. I have worry that his inexperience will cause trouble for us"_

_Altair's eyes dropped as he stood up, undoing the knots of his belt and pulling his red sash away from his body. Noticing that this had caught Malik's eyes with an unwavering gaze, he couldn't help but smile. "When was the last time we had a moment alone such as this?"_

"_You know what would happen if we were caught! We had agreed to stop this, Altair." Malik cursed out, pulling his eyes away from the toned, muscular torso of the man. Scars adorned his flesh, but at the young age of 24, and a life of murder for good, what else could be expected? "You promised me."_

_Coughing and turning away, Altair chuckled, pulling his tunic back over his body. "Then why have you not left if you do not intend to stay?"_

_xxx  
_

"_Wait! There must be another way! This one need not die."_

_Footsteps... Running footsteps, and the shink of a blade piercing an old man's flesh..._

_A lighter voice, more childish spoke. "Well done! An excellent kill; fortune favours your blade."_

"_Not fortune, skill. Watch and you'll learn something, Novice."_

_An argument brewing, the Creed forgotten... Three key points to live by, all tossed away and disregarded. A cocky soul indeed._

_**Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.**_

_As all three moved forward, the rocky walls surrounding them grew brighter. Torches cast long shadows, and revealed another unlucky soul; a soldier... a Templar. His life ending quickly, and passing through the door he kept, the three saw what their goal was whilst atop that ledge. But that was not all..._

"_That must be it! The Ark." The sharp voice whispered, amazed at the sight._

"_The Ark? Of the Covenant?" The light voice spoke over the sharp one, attempting to take in the glory that shone. _

"_Don't be silly, there's no such thing..." The serious one shook his head, looking down to the floor. "It's just a story."_

_There HE was... He was Robert de Sable, walking underneath the archway and ordering his men to capture the goal and seal the area. He was a despicable man at best, and their greatest enemy; a Templar commander._

"_His life is MINE." The serious one spoke, silencing the others as he descended to the floor, alerting them to the presence of the three. Joined by his own allies, and attempting the life of the Templar, he was thrown from the room, the others left for dead while he was spared..._

_As such, he fled, escaping the temple or the Ark and returning home to Masyaf, only to be met with harsh criticism. He knew he had failed...The Master saw this as well, highly displeased._

"_There was trouble, Master... I have failed you. Robert de Sable was not alone... This time, adaptation was not enough. The treasure is lost to us and Robert has escaped."_

"_I sent you... My best man, to complete a mission more important than any that has come before and you return to me, and dare to stand before me with nothing more than apologies?!" The elderly man raised his hand, quick to silence any retaliation. "Do not speak, not a single word, Altair! You will do nothing further! You've caused enough trouble this time. But tell me one thing, Altair... Where are Mailk and Kadar?"_

"_Dead..."_

_A bloody man came from behind, cradling his left arm as droplets of crimson began to fall from his fingertips. Injured and in pain, the image shocked him. Seeing his best friend injured as such, as much of an idiot as the man was, made him reach for his own blade. Gripping the hilt, he began to draw it forth, and as the shine hit light, Altair could feel something peirce at his ribs. "Not dead! I still live, at least. And Kadar is now gone, all because of you! Suffer as he did!"_

_Pulling away and gripping at his side where the wound lay, Altair crouched, trying to seal if with his hands. "Robert threw me from the room, there was nothing I could've done..."_

"_Die now as he did!" _

_Altair winced as he pulled the knife away, seeing his own blood match that of Malik's as it hit the floor. "I loved you..."_

"_Safety and peace in the Next Life, Brother..."_

**xxx**_  
_

Altair awoke with a Jolt, reaching at his ribs to ensure no new marks had been made. Tracing his fingers over the scar that remained from Al Mualim's sentence those long five years ago, relief flowed over him.

"Malik... He whispered, pulling himself up from the hay, seeing he was still in the stable a kind old man had offered him for the night. He hadn't returned to Masyaf since the old man died in his arms and he burned the body, much to the rest of the Order's aggravation. Ever since that day, he vowed to run. Malik had begun to accept him once more, but once news had reached him in Jerusalem of Al Mualim's death, his lover had rejected him once more. Believing he was a changed man had backfired. Last they spoke, Malik scolded him for what felt like hours, claiming that arrogance or greed had taken hold.

Oh how he missed that man... His soft, dark hair, his warm skin... The day he apologized for everything, admitting his own faults, Malik had disregarded it, having given forgiveness beforehand. The last night they had spent together, Malik had actually admitted to loving him and wanting him to be nothing more than safe...

But five years had passed since he had left on his mission, with little success to speak of. Perhaps it was time that he pack up, and make his way back to the man he loved. The dream concerned him, however. Why would such a thought consume his subconscious mind if there wasn't something to actually grasp hold of?

Shaking his head and standing up, a horse whinnying off to the side, he grabbed his belts, sword, dagger, and knives, replacing each of them in the appropriate sheath and made way for the heavy wooden door. Then the horse grabbed his attention once more, the beast stepping toward him. "Do you want to travel too, friend?" His head turned, looking for a saddle, and found only a set of reins and a few blankets. Bareback it was.


End file.
